Long Road Home
by Beloved-Stranger
Summary: Warning: This story contains coarse language, Cousin Olive, a gassy spaniel, Dave's arms, Loopy!Blaine, eyes meeting across a crowded open air theatre, that Rusted Root song from the Matilda movie and a few fangasms. Follows 'DukeStud' and 'Gumtree'
1. Gaydar

**Title: Long Road Home  
>Pairing(s):<strong> Gen...well, for now.**  
>Rating:<strong> PG-13 for language**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1,646**  
>Warnings:<strong> Minor coarse language, dog hair, cousin Olive, that one song by Rusted Root from the _Matilda_ Movie…**  
>Spoilers:<strong> Everythin'. This is a continuation of the cousin Olive ficlets, _Duke-Stud _and _Gumtree_.**  
>Summary:<strong>  
>He takes a brief moment to wonder why these conversations always seem to take place in coffee shops. Or, you know, places where they at least serve a lot of coffee.<br>Dave sighs internally and also wonders how events managed to conspire against him to the point where he's about to come out to his favorite cousin in a truck-stop diner.

* * *

><p><strong>Long Road Home<strong>

Dave's not going to pretend he didn't see this coming.

This has been on the cards pretty much since he realized he might be…

Yeah.

He takes a brief moment to wonder why these conversations always seem to take place in coffee shops. Or, you know, places where they at least serve a lot of coffee.

Dave sighs internally and also wonders how events managed to conspire against him to the point where he's about to come out to his favorite cousin in a truck-stop diner.

Across the Formica table top, Ollie is giving him the hitched eyebrow of WTF and thoughtfully eating her French fries one by one with her fingers. Dave knows she's keeping one eye on him and the other on Gumtree, who they can just see sleeping in Ollie's ancient Chrysler Valiant outside.

Even though they can't hear her, Dave can see the rhythm of the old dog's chest moving and his memory provides the familiar sound of her snoring. She looks smaller because of her summer clip. Thinner. Dave kind of wishes they'd got their food to take away so they could sit in the car and he could have Gummy tucked up beside him when he finally tells Ollie…

"So," says the girl in question, "what's up?"

Dave sighs.

* * *

><p>The morning began with Dave being pounced on.<p>

Someone was sitting on the side of his bed, shaking his shoulders and whispering, "Dave, Dave! Guess what day it is!"

Dave groaned and hugged his pillow tighter, trying to bury his face in it. "G'way. S'not a school day."

"I know that, dork. C'mon, Dave, guess what day it is."

"_Not a school day_," he muttered.

"We've covered that. Try again."

"…Thursday?"

Low laughter. "Uh, yeah, _and_?"

"Dunno," he said muzzily, "wanna sleep."

The someone hummed a tune by his ear.

Dave's eyes snapped open.

"Holy crap, its _Thursday_," he said, rolling over a little a peering up at Ollie.

She grinned back. "Hells yeah it is! And that means…"

"Six Flags."

"Six Flags," Ollie agreed, "so get your shit and get ready, dude, we're hitting the road."

They flew out the door at six-fifteen with Dave still struggling into a shirt and the last slice of toast clenched between his teeth. Ollie bounded ahead of him, ridiculous deep purple teashades already on her nose, car keys ringing like bells between her fingers.

Gumtree was sprawled in her customary place along the back seat, spreading dog-slobber and her furiously molting coat across the tie-on calico seat-covers to spare the vintage upholstery. Dave and Ollie could hear her having noisy dreams in the backseat, legs powering whenever Dave leaned over and rubbed her side whispering, "Rabbits, Gum, rabbits!"

Summer had hit with a fiery vengeance, and they knew by ten Chrysler's interior would smell of hot leather, sun-cream and over-warm teenager. They drove with the windows down for now, sparing the AC until the heat of the day really hit. The Chicago Six Flags was a five hour drive away – four and a half if they beat the traffic and if Ollie really put the V8 under the hood to good use (without getting snapped by trafficops). All in all, they should get there by ten-thirty.

That gave them time for both their iPods, talking each other's ear off as they caught up, and figuring out what the hell they were supposed to do for the rest of the summer after their annual Six Flags blow out.

It also gave Dave a long time to wonder how the crap he was supposed to come out before they crossed the state line into Illinois.

Him and Ollie have known each other forever, but they really got to be friends when they were four – the year Dave threw a tantrum and kicked over the Christmas tree to the horror of his parents and the delight of his Great Aunt Lucy. Even now, two years after the great lady's passing, Ollie is the only one who still uses her nickname for him. Ollie still calls him Humbug…and Dave still lets her.

It's not even a fragment of all the reasons he needs to tell her – wants to, even – but it's one of the ones that sticks in his mind and then blared at him the whole time they were rocking down the US-30 with Ollie singing along to Rusted Root's 'Send Me On My Way' and making faces just to get a smile out of him.

Which is why, halfway across Indiana, he took his life in his hands and said, "Okay, we need to pull over somewhere."

Ollie stared at him. "Are you serious? I told you to pee before we left."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's worse."

"…oh, God."

He threw her a grimace. "I'm hungry."

It was good thing she was driving, because otherwise he might have lost a limb. "We're going to be _so_ late," she muttered, but pulled over at the next place they came across and threw his wallet at him as they climbed out of the car. "The lines are going to be _huge_, Dave."

"I know," he says quietly, contritely, and follows her stomping footsteps into the diner.

…Which is how they came to be sitting here now, with Ollie giving him the laser-eyes and somehow managing to each French fries _archly_.

"So," she says, apropos of nothing, "what's up?"

Dave really wishes she'd stop doing that thing where she can apparently read his mind or whatever. He thinks she might have figured out they weren't really here for food about the time he put down his burger half-eaten and started fidgeting with the salt-shaker, because it's also when she stopped stabbing her sandwich irritably as though imagining it were his internal organs.

He half-smiles, even though he fells kind of like his stomach is about to drop out through is shoes. "What makes you think something's up?"

Ollie laughs. "Really? This again?" She casts a definitive glance at his plate.

"Yeah," says Dave, and then wonders, again, how the hell to do this. "So…y'know how I had some stuff going on earlier this year?"

Ollie's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Uh, _yeah_."

"Well, part of it was 'cause… I mean it really…" He scrubs his hands over his face. "What – what I'm trying to say is…"

She watches him fumble for a few seconds more while nonchalantly continuing to eat her fries and then says, "So is this the part where you confess you're gay or what?"

Dave stares at her, appalled. "You _know_?"

"I'm _right_!"

Dave can only gape at her in mortification.

"Humbug, I'm _kidding_." She's grinning and reaching out to put one small hand over his forearm where it lies on the table. "But really, you're…?"

If he weren't in shock, he'd probably throw the remains of his burger at her. "I – I'm – yeah. I'm –" He takes a bracing breath and finishes softly, "I'm gay."

"Well thank God," Ollie says, rolling her eyes a little. "I thought my gaydar was broken."

Dave feels like he should be picking his jaw up off the table. This conversation is spinning so out of control right now. "What? You have…just…_what_?"

"Yes," says Ollie. _And continues to eat her damn French fries like it's nothing_.

Seriously, how is this his life?

* * *

><p>"So…" Dave tries once they're back in the car and powering towards Six Flags with a vengeance (and Dave doesn't feel like he's about to have some kind of cardiac event), "So, really? <em>Gaydar?<em> That shit's real?"

"I'unno," Ollie says, shrugging. Her eyes remain on the road, and she's still bizarrely calm about all this. Although, if she really does have…gaydar…it explains a few things. "I mean, it could just be really specific womanly intuition or something."

"So, hang on," Dave puzzles this out for a moment, "you can sort of…sense non-straight people."

"Uh-huh."

"And you've always been able to sense me?"

"Pretty much."

"And that made you think your 'dar was broken?"

"In a nutshell."

"You didn't think that maybe I was still…in my closet or whatever?"

Ollie throws him a hurt look. "No, _actually_, because I assumed that you'd tell me once you figured yourself out. Not, y'know, go on a rampage and start tossing people into lockers like a big shaved bear."

Burn.

"Although I can see why you were hiding out," she mutters, "after all, your school is full of dicks."

"I…should've been able to tell you though," Dave says, partly because that's what she wants to hear, but also because, well. She's not wrong.

"Yeah," Ollie says, voice very small.

Dave is not liking the angst up in this car.

"So," he says briskly, "how does this whole gaydar thing go?"

As it turns out, gaydar isn't anything like radar at all.

"Well, mine's not anyway," Ollie says, shrugging again. "It's not like there's a little black screen in my head with a rotating green line that goes _bing_ every time there's a gay person within broadwave range or whatever."

It really is more an intuition thing, 'like gay-divining dousing rod', which of course brings to mind every Yosemite Sam 'toon Dave ever saw as a kid, watching the yelping bewhiskered figure being dragged around by a forked branch while he tried to divine for water, or oil or Bugs Bunny. Then he makes the mistake of picturing Ollie divining for gay with a rainbow rod and getting dragged smack into an outraged looking Kurt Hummel.

It takes him a good ten minutes to stop laughing and explain himself to Ollie.

And it's not 'til they're pulling into the Six Flags parking lot, The Hives still blasting like a dare put to music, that it all hits him.

He came out to his cousin. The world is still spinning.

He came out…and he's okay.

He's _okay_.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Guys, I don't even know where this came from. It just kind of happened while I was watching _Matilda_ last night (hence the Rusted Root – every feel-good drama _needs_ to have that song). I have more on their trip to Six Flags planned, but I kinda want to see how you guys feel about this first.

Also, if you're trying to picture Ollie, go with Ellen Page.


	2. Stage Dive

**Pairing(s):** one-sided Kurtofsky, as much as it kills me to say it.

**Rating:** PG-13 for language

**Word Count:** (this chapter) 2,921

**Warnings:** Coarse language, Cousin Olive, Dave's arms, loopy!Blaine and a eyes meeting across a crowded open air theatre. Also, I'm aware Six Flags doesn't allow dogs…but is this the face of girl who cares? No, it is not.

**Spoilers:** Everythin'. This is a continuation of the Cousin Olive ficlets, _Duke-Stud? Really?_ and _Gumtree_.

**Summary:**

_And by the time he stopped being a grade-A douchebag and actually gotten to know Kurt as a person, said person had a boyfriend._

_One with an apparent fondness for tights._

_"Okay, really now," Ollie says, effectively drawing him out of his funk. "This is just getting alarming."_

* * *

><p><strong>Stage Dive<strong>

"I can't move," Ollie groans, using Dave as a leaning post. "I'm too full of candy."

"I warned you," Dave says lightly, completely unmoved.

"Shuddup," Ollie mutters back, voice muffled by his shoulder. "God, why do I do this to myself?"

"Hell if I know," Dave says, grinning because she does this every year, and it's always hilarious. "You think you'd know better by now."

She raises her head and gazes at him pathetically. "But…but it always smells so good…"

"Yeah, didn't smell so great when you yacked it up across the back seat of my dad's car, though, did it?"

"It was one time! I was twelve!"

Dave just snickers and rubs Gumtree's ears. The spaniel groans appreciatively and drools on the knee of Dave's cargo shorts. Around them, the stands of the Southwest Territory Amphitheatre are packed out with families – bedraggled adults and kids under eleven hopped up on the same candy that's given Ollie her bellyache – although there's a thick cluster of giggly tweenies down the front, near the stage. There are even a few high school freshmen, trying to look sophisticated in Taylor Swift blouses and over-sized sunglasses. Dave frowns at them.

"What's that all about?" Dave wonders, tilting his head towards the fluff catchment.

Ollie mirrors his frown. "Aren't they kinda old to be here?"

Dave snorts. "Aren't _we_ a little old to be in here?"

"I'm recovering," Ollie growls, and Dave snickers at her again.

Overhead, the speakers come to life:

"Ladies and gentlemen," comes the jovial announcement, "boys and girls! Welcome to Six Flags Great America's Southwest Amphitheatre! We have a great show for you today –!"

Which is about when Dave tunes out, because a little further back from the nest of trilling, Bieber-phile females is a familiar figure in a light-weight powder blue shirt and black wayfarers. Dave feels something in his chest twist; he'd know that elegantly coifed hair anywhere, even if it is a little sandier than he's used to. More time in the sun, he thinks inanely, and then wonders if he has to wear more sunscreen to keep that smooth, pale skin from burning luminous pink…

"Who the hell is Blaine Anderson?" Ollie says.

Dave starts. "What?"

"Blaine Anderson," Ollie repeats, "he's the lead in this thing."

The only Blaine Dave knows is a gel-capped hobbit that sings for Gay Hogwarts and is… who is dating…

_Goddamn._

Just because the universe seems determined to screw with him today (of all days), Ollie is now following his gaze, which of course has inevitably led back down to the figure in powder blue…who is gazing steadily at the stage.

Dave wants to break something.

"Who's that?" asks Ollie.

Dave wants to break several somethings.

"Blaine Anderson is Kurt Hummel's boyfriend," Dave says, fighting to keep his voice level and not grind every word out through his back teeth. "And that… that's Kurt Hummel."

"Well, _shit_," says Ollie.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later Ollie's saying, "Is this kid for real?"<p>

Dave can only shake his head. He's blocked out most of the performance in favor of watching Kurt's distant figure – _like a total creeper, God, Dave, time for something new, maybe?_ – so it's another ten minutes before he realizes that Highbrows and his costumed cohorts are frolicking their way through a musical production of Jim Henson's _The Dark Crystal_. Which sucks beyond all reasoning because Dave actually liked that movie before this, and now all he's going to be able to think of when he watches it is Blaine Goddamn Anderson in a set of tights singing about special destinies and the weight of the world on his tiny fairy shoulders, and could the whole situation be more ironic, really?

"No, _actually_, is he for real?" Ollie says, eyebrows raised over the teashades, "I mean he's cute, but he's also singing at a Six Flags. _In tights_. This is attractive?"

"Apparently," Dave says. He nods down at the gushing tweens/we're-actually-too-cool freshmen contingent. "They seem to think so." There's certainly a lot of squealing going on.

"Hah," Ollie says, a little vindictively, "too bad they're not his type." Of course not; if they were, Dave's life might be a little easier. "Think I know who might be though…"

And yeah, Dave can see that; Blaine, still mid-ballad, is gazing at that one powder-blue figure in the crowd, and unless Dave was very much mistaken, Kurt was gazing back. Their eyes are actually meeting across a crowded room. Amphitheatre. Whatever, the whole situation was going to outdo the various candy stalls and rot the teeth of every innocent child here. It shouldn't be allowed.

And yes, Dave realizes he has a problem.

The deeply sad thing is that Dave knows he never had a chance with Kurt. First he was an asshole, then he was an even bigger asshole, then he was a creeper of John Hinckley proportions and after that he was kind of a wreck.

And by the time he stopped being a grade-A douchebag and actually gotten to know Kurt as a person, said person had a boyfriend.

One with an apparent fondness for tights.

"Okay, really now," Ollie says, effectively drawing him out of his funk. "This is just getting alarming."

The dancing has started up again – Kurt's clapping along with the fangirls – and Ollie does actually look a little alarmed.

"I'm having _Labyrinth_-Bowie flashbacks, dude," she mutters. "I mean all this leaping around can't be good for – OH MY GOD."

Blaine Anderson has just taken a header off the stage.

Dave hears Kurt's cry of alarm and is on his feet before his brain even gives him a courtesy warning of 'about to engage legs'.

There's a lot of a different kind of squealing coming from the Tweenies & Co. now, and Dave can see Kurt taking the steps two at a time to get down to the stage, in front of which a small crowd of rubber-neckers and staff have gathered.

"We should go help," Dave says, eyes still on Kurt as he makes his way to the steps. Gumtree follows him amicably but Ollie just stares at him for a moment.

"Wait, don't you kind of…hate the guy?"

Dave glowers at her. "What? No."

Envy's not a component of hate, right?

Maybe just strong dislike.

"C'mon," Dave says, and charges down the steps with Gumtree. He can hear Ollie behind him and feel her laser eyes on his back, which he determinedly ignores.

They get to the stage and its goddamn chaos. The Tweenies are gushing and gurgling away in distress, parents are trying to keep their kids from underfoot and everyone's freaking out because Highbrows is apparently delirious or something. Dave can see him looking woozily around him while Kurt tries to talk to him and hear him babbling back like he's snorted a couple thousand tons of Fruit Loops.

If this were happening to anyone else it would be hysterical. But it's not, and therefore Dave cares, because apparently Kurt now has some kind of line directly to the nicer parts of his personality.

It's such a freaking disaster.

For a moment, Dave freezes up, not really knowing how to proceed. His brain really got as far as the 'get to Kurt' part of the plan…then the Boyfriend swings around, fixes his eyes on Dave and says, loudly, "Kurt! Kurt, look, its _David Boreanaz_!"

Kurt's gaze swings up from his completely out-of-his-tree significant other and fixes on Dave, the very definition of shock written on his face and probably visible from orbit. None of this is helped by Ollie snorting with laughter behind him and saying something like, "well, he got the first bit right."

Dave clears his throat and takes a step forward, trying to ignore how very blue Kurt's wide eyes are. "Thought we should come and help," he mutters. "Should probably get him to the first aid office and he doesn't look like he can walk –" Blaine grins vacantly up at him and Dave frowns – "or correctly process visual information."

Kurt blinks at him opens his mouth and says, "Yeah, I think he hit his head."

"Kurt," Blaine stage whispers, "Kurt, look at his _arms_!"

* * *

><p>Dave has never regretted a good deed more in his life.<p>

Mind you, in no way could he have anticipated that volunteering himself to a stricken Kurt & Boyfriend would end with him carrying said boyfriend princess-style across the fricking park to Hometown Square while the little twerp – still loopy as a noose – tries to covertly-but-not-really feel up Dave's biceps.

Apart from the obvious it's got Dave kind of worried actually; every time Blaine gazes as him and garbles out "it's such an honor to meet you Mr. Boreanaz!" Dave can see that his pupils are blown wide and glassy, although at least they're even. Dave remembers being concussed and concussing other people and he's never reacted or seen anyone react like this before. Concussion doesn't cause some kind of weird waking dream and sinkhole eyes. It's familiar though…

Blaine goes in for another arm-grope (seriously, what the hell?) and Kurt casts him another outraged glare. Dave thinks he must really look as uncomfortable as he feels because while Blaine's getting the stink-eye, Kurt keeps giving Dave apologetic looks. He and Ollie are playing the whole get-to-know-you game and comparing Dave-notes, which would be mortifying enough, but Kurt keeps trying to hide the fact that Dave's gay and he knows it, while Ollie keeps teasingly trying to get him to slip up and say something. It's a little mean of her, but at this point Dave's a little too distracted to call her on it.

And then it happens:

"So, you wore a kilt to your prom this year, right?"

…Dave's murdering her when they get home.

Kurt gives Dave a sidelong look and quickly turns back to Ollie. "Yeah, in honor of the royal wedding."

"Mmm," Ollie hums appreciatively. "Will or Harry?"

Kurt's eyes light up. "Oh, Will for sure."

"Really?" Ollie's doing that peer over the teashades thing. "But he's going bald. There might not be much left by the time he's thirty."

"_I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty!"_

Oh, this is _awkward_…

Dave doesn't miss the lightning quick flicker of Kurt's eyes in his general direction, but pretends he does.

"They have pills for that now," Kurt says breezily, although its sounds a little strained to Dave. Another quick flash of blue eyes. "Plus, he's going to be king someday."

"True fact," Ollie concedes, also flicking Dave a look.

Dave wants for all the world not to be blushing.

Of course, he also wants Blaine Delirious Anderson to keep his hands to himself, and look how well that's turning out.

"So, Dave's really your cousin?"

"Really really," Ollie says, then shrugs, smiling. "Well…kind of."

At Kurt's questioning look Dave adds, "We're cousins-once-removed."

"Yeah, his dick aunt married my dick uncle and had the bag of dicks we both call cousins."

Kurt laughs. "At least you got Dave out of though, right?" He actually smiles at Dave even though he's talking to Ollie.

Ollie give's Dave a fond look and he forgives her a little for bringing up Prom. "Well, yeah."

Kurt is looking between them with a lingering smile on his face. "So…what're you guys doing at Six Flags today? I mean it's a five hour drive…"

Blaine chooses this moment to trill out a laugh and mutter something about green arms and 'marry me, Fiona!'

Kurt shakes his head, bewildered and Dave has to glower at Ollie when she cackles.

"What?" she asks, "I mean at least he didn't say 'marry me, Donkey' right?"

"There's that," Kurt says, shaking his head. He looks fretful. "I just don't get why he's so out of it… Finn wasn't like this when he came home concussed from a game…"

Dave is saved from having to explain by their arrival at the first aid office. Sylvia is there to meet them. She's been the nurse here for years – since the year Dave and Ollie turned ten actually – and even though she only sees them annually, apparently the pair of them are memorable enough that she knows them by name, and her greeting is always the same:

"Not your two again."

"Hi, Sylvie!" Ollie chirps, relentlessly cheerful in the face of Sylvia's pre-emptive irritation. "We brought you a present!"

"I can see that. Hello, Blaine."

Blaine swings his head round to look at her and pops out with, "Grandma, what big noses you have!" before frowning, very nearly going cross-eyed trying to see the tip of his own nose. "Wherezit gone?" he asks Kurt. "Can I borrow yours?"

Kurt can only shake his head, bewildered.

Sylvia frowns, cutting a quick, interrogative look at Dave, who gives her an imperceptible nod and then herds all of them into her office, except Gumtree, who Ollie ties up outside. The spaniel watches them with woe-be-gone eyes as they walk inside.

Dave puts Blaine on the exam table and backs up as quickly as he can before Grabby-Hands goes in for a last minute arm-grope. Kurt watches Blaine and frets and wrings his hands, and Dave watches Kurt, and in all likelihood, Ollie is watching Dave and putting a few pieces together. Blaine watches things that the rest of them apparently can't see, and is dazed and deeply confused. He blinks in bright light, and seems to have difficulty keeping his balance, limbs moving sluggishly to support himself on the exam table.

Dave has a bad feeling about this.

When Sylvia casually suggests Kurt go call Blaine's mom, Ollie goes with him and Dave and Sylvia ease Blaine down onto one of the cots in the sick bay. After a quick confab, Sylvia kicks him out too with, "C'mon, beat it; I've got calls to make and bloods to take. Go look after your friend."

Dave lets himself be shooed, and finds Ollie sitting with Kurt and Gummy on the steps outside the office.

Kurt's on his feet the minute he sees Dave. "What did she say?" he asks anxiously. "Will he be alright…?"

Dave hesitates for a second, then nods. "He'll be fine, but she's going to call his folks back and get them to take him…home. He's resting. Sylvie said we should get lost, so…"

Kurt nods, looking at his feet. "I should probably get home. It's getting kind of late and the drive home is so long…"

Dave exchanges a look with Ollie. "We should get going too," she says, "Gummy's getting to the end of her rope, and Uncle Paul said we should be back by eight. Family dinner thing," she adds to Kurt. "We do it every year around this time."

Kurt smiles, and doesn't object when they start walking with him to the parking lot. He doesn't flinch while he walks next to Dave, and he looks Dave in the eye when they talk. It's nice.

It's not so nice when they get to the parking lot, to Kurt's car, which is closer than Ollie's Chrysler, and Kurt's face starts to get paler and more drawn the longer he digs around in his bag for his keys.

"No," Dave hears him breathe, "oh no, no, no! I had them right here, I –"

"Kurt?" he asks tentatively.

The smaller boy shakes his head. "I can't have dropped them; they were in one of the interior pockets…"

"We'll go back and look," Dave says firmly, and so back they go, scouring the whole of Southwest Territory before finally admitting defeat.

Kurt looks like he might cry. Dave wants to hit something again for no particular reason. Ollie sensibly points out they should got to Lost and Found. This is a good idea, right up until the girl in the Hometown Square office where the Lost and Found boxes are says that no, no keys turned in today, just a pair of toddlers sandals and a few hats. Kurt miserably leaves a written description of his keys with is details and then adds one for his Escalade as, well, getting the lost and found girl to promise to pass it on to the parking staff so he won't get towed.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he says. "My brother can drive me up with the spare keys."

The girl – her name tag says, 'Eve' – gives him a sympathetic look. "Do you have a way to get home?"

"Yeah," Dave says, and stops short of trying to look at his own mouth in surprise, especially when it _keeps going_: "we've got room in our car."

Ollie nods in agreement, but Kurt is looking at Dave like he's never seen him before. Dave hope's to God, again, that he's not blushing.

"You – you don't have to," Kurt's stammering, and Dave has an awful flash of insight that Kurt probably doesn't want to spend the next four and a half hours trapped in a car with his former bully, a girl he's only just met and an elderly (and let's face it, _gassy_) spaniel. "I could get a ride with Blaine's parents when they get here –"

Ollie snorts inelegantly. "And lurk about here _by yourself_ for _how_ long? Kurt, no way. Dave's right, we've got room in my car and we can get you home before eight if we leave now." She puts her teashades back on and assumes the serious-business face.

"Let's roll."


	3. Hit the Open Road

**Pairing(s):** one-sided Kurtofsky, as much as it kills me to say it.

**Rating:** PG-13 for language

**Word Count:** (this chapter) 4,446

**Warnings:** Coarse language, allusions to sexy-times that Dave will hotly deny, Cousin Olive, pet yark and songs by unfamiliar artists.

**Spoilers:** Everythin'.

**Summary:**

_Outside, he can hear Ollie and Kurt discussing maintenance and the new Hemi 265 engine she wants. When Kurt starts chattering brightly about working at his dad's shop and digging around under the hood of a similar Valiant, Dave bites his lip hard._

_Ollie's sister Dora once informed them that the most common fantasy amongst women aged 25 to 40 was the hot-mechanic trope, and Dave's vivid imagination ensures that they are now __**not alone**__ in that._

* * *

><p><strong>Hit the Open Road<strong>

"Is that a Valiant?"

"Hell yeah, it is."

Kurt clucks his approval. "Very nice. 1970, if I'm not much mistaken."

"1973 VJ, actually, but yeah," Ollie grins, "vintage." She digs her keys out her pocket and tossing them to Dave. "Your turn, Humbug."

Dave catches them, slides into the driver's seat and starts looking for his aviators in an attempt to get over the wash of _godsoturnedon_ that had caught him the moment Kurt recognized the freaking car. Outside, he can hear Ollie and Kurt discussing maintenance and the new Hemi 265 engine she wants. When Kurt starts chattering brightly about working at his dad's shop and digging around under the hood of a similar Valiant, Dave bites his lip hard.

Ollie's sister Dora once informed them that the most common fantasy amongst women aged 25 to 40 was the hot-mechanic trope, and Dave's vivid imagination ensures that they are now _not alone_ in that. _Goddamn_.

He gets himself under control not a moment too soon, because Kurt slips into shotgun, having apparently won the quick paper-scissors-rock tournament for the privilege, and says with elegant raised eyebrows, "'Humbug'?"

"S'a nickname," Dave says, offering a rueful smile while he sets up his iPod, plugging it into the radio tuner and then hanging it by its cord over the rear-view mirror so he can change songs without looking away from the road. "From when I was little, y'know."

"Everyone in our family has one," Ollie says from the back seat, where she's climbed in with Gumtree. "Aunt Lucy was good like that."

"Don't you dare," Dave growls at her, seeing the devious smile lighting up her face. "I'm serious, Ollie."

She blows a dismissive raspberry at him and leans forward. "Wanna hear how he got it?" she asks Kurt.

Kurt darts a look at Dave, who sends him a miserable look back, and yeah, there's a bit of that vindictiveness shining through the sweet smile when Kurt says to Ollie, "oh, definitely."

Dave plays it cool, heaves a bit of sigh, but just when Ollie's starting up with a juicy, "_Well_ then," Dave throws the Valiant into first and roars out of the lot, smirking when Ollie shrieks and is thrown back in her seat.

"Screw you, yeti!"

"Should've been wearing your seatbelt then, shouldn't you?" Dave says loftily, shifting up into second and then third as they hit the open road. "Hey, Kurt?"

Kurt, who is wearing his seatbelt and a bright smile, looks at him. "Yeah?"

Dave flicks his iPod, swinging with the motion of the car. "Pick something off the Death Proof playlist."

Kurt pauses in the midst of pulling down the iPod. "Seriously? That's what you named it?"

Ollie has hauled herself up and pushed her hair out of her face. She glares at Dave and then says, "Yeah, its driving music."

Kurt shakes his head. "_Why_ would you have a playlist of driving music called _'Death Proof'_?"

"You know, after the movie."

Kurt stares blankly at him.

"The Quentin Tarantino movie? With Zoe Bell? And Mary Elizabeth Winstead? Kurt Russell? No?" Dave is horrified. "Dude. _Dude_, how can you not have seen that?"

Kurt is apparently unprepared for the sad-puppy look being thrown at him by Dave, while Ollie, who still isn't wearing her seatbelt, leans over the back of the front bench-seat to gaze at him and say, "Kurt Middlename Hummel, I am disa_ppointed_. It's a _car_ movie! With stunt ladies! And hot cars!"

"Okay, you picked up the part where I'm gay, right?" Kurt tries.

Ollie snorts. "That's not an excuse; so's Dave, and he loves that movie."

Kurt gapes. Dave grins.

"Wait, you _know_?" Kurt demands of Ollie, and when she just laughs he turns back to Dave with, "She _knows_?" His eyes get this suspiciously sparkly quality to them and he breathes, "Dave, did you come out?"

From the back seat, Ollie gives one of those god-awful, dirty chuckles of hers that alarms and entrances straight males and briefly, that one time they met, Santana. Dave suppresses a shudder, because, just, _no_. Instead of full body quiver he shrugs at Kurt.

"Just to her. Kind of," he tells the other boy. "I mean, I was trying to, but apparently Ollie's got the 'dar. Only it's not really the 'dar; more like a rainbow dousing rod."

Kurt boggles. He looks so damn cute. "Are you serious?"

"I wish I weren't. But yes."

"You guys…" Kurt shakes his head. "You guys are just full of surprises." Then he's laughing and Dave grins again, and okay, yeah. Feels pretty good.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ollie puts in from the back, "Button, are you gonna pick a song or do I have to?"

Kurt doesn't even seem to realize he's just been given a nickname. "Oh, right," he murmurs and spends a few seconds scrolling through the playlist. "Who's James Yuill?"

Dave smiles. "Hit it," he says.

"You put James Yuill on Death Proof?" Ollie says, as the opening _tsh-tsk-tsh_ of the backbeat starts up, closely followed by acoustic guitar and James Yuill himself.

"Not all driving music is angst-ridden classic rock, Lollygag."

Kurt's listening to 'This Sweet Love' with this intent look on his face, like it's a revelation all on its own.

Dave smiles and settles in.

It's going to be a long road home.

* * *

><p>"Wait," Kurt is saying over The Clash happily belting out 'Should I Stay or Should I Go', "wait, so…Santana wasn't the last person you slushied?"<p>

Dave gives him a sidelong glance looking…embarrassed. Kurt is immediately intrigued.

"So who was it then?" he asks and, as if to legitimize the curiosity, Ollie starts cackling again. Dave flushes and Kurt finds himself making a half-laughing sound of excitement. He hasn't felt this wound up and silly since the night before Prom. "Spill!"

Dave groans. "Fiiiiine," he whines, drawing it out, "but this goes no further than this car. What happens on the road stays on the road, got it? I'm swearing you to secrecy, Fancy."

"Swear," he says, then listens eagerly. Dave sighs.

"Okay, so it was the week after I slushied San, and Zee had been getting all itchy fingered about this new kid he'd seen coming out of the choir room…"

* * *

><p>"<em>There she is again," Zee said, grinning, switching his slushy cup to his throwing hand. "You think they'd learn."<em>

_The girl in question was calling goodbye to someone in the choir room. Dave noted the long dark hair, round face and…rainbow knock-off Chucks. True, paired with jeans a green sweater it wasn't outstandingly weird, but the fact that she socialized with the glee-nerds and so damn cavalier about it was enough._

_And here she was, striding towards them, completely oblivious with her attention focused on the folder of notes in her arms._

_Dave and Zee swaggered towards her. Drew back, swung…SPLAT._

* * *

><p>"That's terrible," Kurt says, "Although it doesn't explain that," he adds, pointing over the back to where Ollie is clinging to the right hand door and practically <em>crying<em> with laughter.

"Yeeeeeah," Dave says, "wait for it."

* * *

><p><em>They got five feet from her before she recovered her powers of speech.<em>

"Detention_," she ground out, voice low, but pitched to carry and brimming with awful, awful rage. "You're going have detention until you _graduate_!"_

_Zee, who hadn't noticed the shocked and horrified looks of the other students around them, mouthed off. "Yeah? How'dya figure that, princess?"_

"_Because she's not a _student_, you big dumb douche-bags," said a voice from behind them._

_They swung to see Santana leaning up against the nearest lockers, smirking._

"_Oh, god," Dave breathed, stomach cramping in precognitive horror. "Who…?"_

"_I'm the _Deputy Principal_, Mr Karofsky," the girl – woman! – snarled, shaking ice and cordial from her arms and glowering at them as though she were considering taking them apart with her tiny bare hands. "And you two are in __**very – serious – trouble**__."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh<em> my god," Kurt says, one hand going to his mouth. "Oh my _god_, tell me you didn't."

Dave groans at the memory. "We totally did."

"And she actually _sounded_ like that?"

"No joke. Just like that. I've never been so terrified in my entire freaking life."

Not strictly true, Kurt thinks, but pretty damn close. He knows for a fact there's something Dave's more afraid off, although…

He casts a look back at Ollie, who is truly in tears now, gasping and chortling. Kurt grins.

Maybe that's changing.

"How did you not recognise her?" he says.

Dave shakes his head. "Dude. I didn't even know we had a DP."

* * *

><p>"<em>Dude," Zee whispered, reaching over to jab Dave's leg. "Did you know we had a DP?"<em>

_Dave shook his head from his seat in one of the three chairs facing Deputy Taite's desk. The lady herself was sitting in the big leather chair behind her desk, hair still damp and up in a bun on the back of her head. No jeans and sweater now; this time she actually looked like a Deputy Principal – blouse and slacks and heels, even pearl-drop earrings._

_She glowered at them over the folders spread across the blotter pad. "I'm right here, Mr Adams, I can _hear_ you." Her voice was a whip-crack in the small room and both boys sank lower in their chairs. She eyed then for a few fraught seconds. "And I don't think either of you realize how serious your situation is."_

"_Miss," Zee tried, "we didn't mean to hit you with those slushies; we were just…"_

"_Going to hit a student? Or you did intend to hit me because you thought I was a student, hmm?"_

"_Uh…"_

"_I thought as much. Do you realize I could have the pair of you expelled for this?" She stood, looking down at their expressions of horror and crossing her arms. "This is something neither of you can afford, not with your records. Both of you have previous expulsions and you, Mr Karofsky, as of this year have a detention record competing in length with that of Noah Puckerman."_

"_Miss Taite," Dave said, very quietly._

"_What?"_

_Dave swallowed. "What…what happens if we get expelled? I mean what…"_

_The DP drew herself up with a deep breath, eyeing then both. "It goes on your records. No decent college would touch you without substantial convincing and letters of recommendation, and you certainly won't be in the running for any of the scholarships McKinley gets offered."_

_Dave heard Azimio groan beside him. God,_ god, _they were so_, so _very screwed. Taite was right; neither of them could afford something like this…_

_There was a long-suffering sigh from across the desk. "However."_

_Both boys looked up. The DP's face was still fierce as ever, but she didn't look like she was about to shoot lasers out of her eyes and incinerate them, so._

"_Keeping you out of college does no one any good, least of all you juvenile asshats." Dave wasn't sure teachers were supposed to speak to students like that, but he really wasn't one to be throwing stones right now. "So. Both of you are on notice. Your parents will be called and informed of this and you'll be given appearance dates."_

_She settled back in her chair and picked up a pen, apparently going to work on the papers spread across her desk._

"_Wait," Zee said, "on notice? Appearance dates? What does that mean?"_

_Taite locked her eyes on him. Zee shifted uncomfortably._

"_What does that mean, miss?" he backtracked quickly._

"_It means," she said, not taking her eyes off him, "that the pair of you repeat offenders and your parents will be appearing in a hearing before the Disciplinary Committee. Of which I am the chairwoman. We'll look at your records, discuss them with your parents and try and find a productive way dealing with you."_

"_So," Dave said tentatively, "we're not expelled."_

_The DP narrowed her eyes at him, and he could've sworn her mouth curled a little in a smile._

"_Trust me, Mr Karofsky," she said, "expulsion is the last thing you should be worried about. Now get out of my office and get to class."_

* * *

><p>Kurt is not impressed. "That's it? A hearing?"<p>

"Okay, see, you _say_ that," Dave says earnestly, "but you totally _wouldn't_ be if you'd seen her face. I'm scarred for life."

"She can't possibly be as bad a Coach Sylvester."

Dave groans. "Oh my god, yes she _is_, because the rest of the time she's actually _nice_, so when she's mad like that it's just… Okay, not helping, Ollie!"

In the back, Ollie continues to laugh. "Can't – can't help it – you're f-face – it just – it was –!" Followed by renewed peals of laughter.

"So, you got sentenced? At this hearing?"

Dave nods. "Taite made arrangements for sixty hours community service each, and if we didn't get positive feedback from our supervisors we'd get another fifty."

Kurt can't help a slightly smug grin at the thought. "Let me guess, picking up trash on the side of the highway?"

"Worse," says Dave, "animal crap."

This time it's Kurt clinging to his door and laughing uncontrollably.

* * *

><p>"Who's it by?"<p>

"Bloody Red Shoes, 'It's Getting Boring By the Sea.'"

"Damn it. Okay, this one!"

"MGMT, 'The Handshake'."

"…lucky guess. Next!"

"'So I Fall Again' from Phantom Planet. Ollie, this game doesn't work when you're quizzing me with my own iPod."

"You'll slip up eventually. Who sings it?"

"'Burn', by The Cure, from _The Crow_ soundtrack, which I have on vinyl. Lollygag, give up, seriously."

"Nevaaar! Again!"

"It's…ah, crap."

"AHA, YUSS, I WIN!"

"It's 'Box' by Katy Perry, actually."

Pause.

"Dave, just wondering, why do you have Katy Perry on you iPod?"

"I swear it's not mine. Satan put it there."

"Wait, Santana?"

Awful cackling. "Love it how your brain instantly made that connection right there. And yes, Santana is totally responsible for this."

"I still don't know how she got the password for my laptop."

"Uh…"

"Ollie. Tell me you didn't."

"…I might have."

"You're so dead."

Raspberry. "Whatever. You're just cranky I was in cahoots with your beard and we hooked up that one time at that party."

"You're supposed to be on my… Hang on."

"Ollie, how do you know Santana?"

"Okay, well, there was the party Dave brought her to –"

"You _hooked up_ with _Santana_?"

"We were drunk, she was bored, you weren't there. And it's not like you weren't getting your mack on, too, Mr I-got-mutual-jollies-with-Eli-Marriot."

"Who's Eli Marriot?"

"Oh, god. _This_ is why you weren't surprised…"

"Alright, not to jump to conclusions here, but you've seen _Queer as Folk_, yeah?"

"Yes…"

"Picture Brian Kinney at seventeen. That's Eli Marriot."

"…O-oh."

"And Dave totally hit that. _Oh my god_, don't even try to deny it! Me and San SAW you sneaking off with him, ya big slut."

"OLLIE!"

* * *

><p>Kurt is…Kurt is surprisingly comfortable, actually.<p>

Okay, yeah, he's worried about Blaine. Of course he's worried about Blaine.

But the car is sun-warmed, even with the breeze coming in from the half open windows, and smells of leather and lemonade (and okay, dog, but that's hardly Gumtree's fault). Dave is the most at ease that Kurt has ever seen him – the most happy – and Kurt watches him, slumped comfortably back in the driver's seat with one hand at two on the wheel and the other on the doorsill, humming along to Snow Patrol with Ollie. He likes this version of Dave.

They make their way through Dave's iPod – and like the boy it's full of surprises. Snow Patrol, of course, and then The Killers, which probably isn't that surprising, but then Kurt finds a playlist called Smooth, filled with Melody Gardot and Michael Buble and someone called Bic Runga. He hits 'Ruby Nights' and a low, dreamy, _sad_ beat finds its way to them from the Valiant's speakers.

_The last that I saw  
>With eyes filled with rain<br>A waterfall of gold  
>It flickered on his face<br>(Flickered on his face)_

It's slow, and melancholic, and nothing like he would usually pick for himself…but then it's nothing like he thought Dave would pick either.

Dave gives him a sidelong look, shifting a little in his seat. "Kind of heavy, don't you think? For now, I mean?"

Kurt looks over at him, a little entranced by the music. "I like it," he says, hearing the wonder in his voice.

Dave gives him a smile. "Okay, me too, but… try 'Get Some Sleep' instead. You'll like that as well, promise."

Kurt does.

They get to the chorus, and he can't stop smiling.

_Stranded in June  
>Whistling the same old tune<br>But I do believe I might be having fun  
>I believe I might be having fun…<em>

* * *

><p>"…rainbow dousing rod?"<p>

"Look, it's like I told Humbug; it's not like there's a screen in my head and a rotating green line and proximity alarms or whatever. It's more like intuition or something. And it's not like I can look at someone and instantly know they're gay or bi or that their cushions may not necessarily match their draping –"

"_Cushions_?"

"Okay, I was going for subtle euphemism for transgender there, but clearly I was being too clever for my own good."

"No, no. I got it."

"Thank God."

"You know trannies?"

"David, I will climb over this seat and hurt you. Don't give me that face. All the sensitivity of a golf ball, swear to god."

"For Christ sake – don't hit me! – you know _transsexual people_?"

"Two, for you information. You remember Matt Basinger, went to school with Dora?"

"Kelly's big brother, right?"

"Right. Well, as Facebook would have it, he's marrying Eddie Carson this fall."

"…Matt's gay?"

"No, but just after her eighteenth birthday Eddie became Adie."

"…holy crap."

"Okay, now I'm curious, who's number two?"

"…um."

"Spill it, Ollie."

"Dave's going to get really uncomfortable."

"Why? Why am I going to get uncomfortable?"

"Okay…so…there was this party, summer before sophomore year, and I distinctly remember you making out with a redhead girl, Cammie. I think you said later she was your first real kiss?"

"…"

"Yeah…so…talked to her 'bout five months later…and actually…"

"…but – but she had – she had boobs!"

"Hormone therapy's a wonderful thing, Dave…are you okay?"

"Dave? Humbug?"

"I'm just…okay, so I spent freaking forever trying real, _real_ hard to be straight, right?"

"Uh-huh…"

"And yet despite this, I _still_ managed to have my first kiss with someone with a penis."

"Is the irony smothering you?"

"I practically have irony-related-asthma right now."

* * *

><p>They've three miles past Bourbon, Indiana when Ollie pipes with, "Peaches at ten!" and leans over the front seat to point to something on the side of the road.<p>

"Oh, hell yes," Dave says, and smoothly draws the Valiant up onto the shoulder.

There's what looks like an untended stall there; open crates with pre-bagged fruit in them and a price list painted on a wide square of plywood leaning up against the table, the whole thing shaded by a deck umbrella. There's also a cast iron lock box with a slot in the top and 'no change given' in white letters on its front. When Kurt climbs out and joins Ollie and Dave examining the fruit, he can see, in smaller letters 'The Lord Thanks You For Your Honesty' on the lockbox's lid, around the slot.

"Hey, d'ya think if we got enough peaches and begged like fiends we could get your dad to make cobbler for tonight?" Ollie asks Dave. She's already digging through her wallet and pockets for change.

"Depends on how his case is going, but if he won't, Dora will."

"I know that," Ollie scoffs a little. "But it's not the _same_ when Dora does it."

Dave laughs. "Yeah, that tone right there, use that and you'll never get cobbler again."

Kurt looks up. It's not just peaches available; there are blackberries, blueberries and handsome, if slightly small Honey Crisp apples. "You're dad bakes?"

"Yeah," Dave says, "I mean it's pretty much me and him most of the time, so…"

"Me too," Kurt murmurs. "I mean it was, until Dad and Carole got married. My dad can't really cook to save himself though – mom used to – so it was neighbor-casseroles and them me later on. Um…so your mom is…?"

"Somewhere on the east coast last time we checked," Dave gives him a rueful smile. "Which is kind of a relief, actually, since what I can remember about her cooking was that it mostly came out of cans or the freezer."

"I'm so sorry, Dave, that's…" Kurt trails off, not really sure how to react. His mom's gone – but she never _wanted_ to leave him and his dad. What do you say to someone whose mother abandoned them?

Dave shakes his head, still smiling a little. Kurt is aware of Ollie watching them from the car as she digs through the glove-box, keeping one protective eye on Dave. "It's fine, really. I mean, she took off when I was eight, so…yeah." He scrubs one hand awkwardly over the back of neck. "Some people just aren't cut out to have kids, y'know? It's okay. My dad really was, but Mom just…wasn't."

It's the oddest thing. It's not like Dave is really defending the distant, far-removed woman, but he's not actively blaming her either. Kurt can't fathom it.

"You're okay with just your dad?" he asks, keen to steer the conversation away from absent mothers, and begins looking through the blackberries. "I know it was kind of hard for my dad, with just the two of us."

Dave offers up another smile. "Yeah. We're okay now, but he was pissed about…y'know, that stuff from school." Kurt catches the uncertain look darted at him and just nods. "It's better now, though. He was happy about the Bullywhips thing. And I think…I think he's starting to trust me like he used to."

There's a triumphant shout from the car, and Ollie emerges from the front seat bearing a twenty and a fistful of loose change.

"Cobbler is _so_ on!" she crows. "Let's load her up, boys!"

* * *

><p>Its evening and the sun is definitely in the west, slowly sinking towards the horizon. It's still light though, and Dave knows it will be 'til at least eight-thirty.<p>

He's a little worried he and Ollie aren't going to manage dinner at this rate. They've still got the peaches they set aside for his dad's potential cobbler, but the blackberries, blueberries and the majority of the apples have gone the same way as the last of the lemonade…

Well, _Dave_ will manage dinner. He's a bottomless pit. Ollie looks like she's going to drop off any minute, Gumtree groans in her sleep and Kurt is in the middle of a dreamy fructose-induced sugar high. He keeps going back to his Smooth playlist and playing stuff from Runga and Gardot and even some of the sweeter numbers from the Scott Pilgrim soundtrack and Snow Patrol. Dave smiles when he hears him singing along with 'Chasing Cars', so soft it's almost under his breath.

And then the calm is shattered.

"Dave," Ollie says with a rising note of warning in her voice. "Dave, we need to pull over _right now_."

"What? Why –?"

"_Just do it_!"

"What the hell, Ollie?"

"David Karofsky, you pull over right now, _I am not going to have this dog vomit in my car_!"

David wrenches the wheel and they come to a screaming stop on the shoulder, Kurt wide-eyed and clinging to the dash while the back door very nearly flies off its hinges and Ollie shoots out half-carrying a heaving Gumtree with her.

Dave is out a second later, hovering while Ollie croons to the old dog as her body bows, heaves again…and then there's a wheezing gag, wet noises and a pile of dog sick on the grass by Gumtree's feet.

Gumtree coughs once, then looks up and grins at them, tail wagging.

"What the hell what that all about?" Ollie asks her, hands on her hips. Gumtree replies by trying to lick Ollie's bare legs. "Oh, no you don't. Dave, can you hold her?"

Dave nods and grips Gummy's collar while Ollie digs under the seats and emerges with an old Frisbee. She fills it from her water bottle and leads the dog away from the puddle of puke, rubbing her side while she drinks.

"Is she okay?" Kurt asks, coming around the car.

Dave nods, and then something catches his eye. He hunts about for a second, then comes back to Kurt and begins prodding the puddle with a stick.

"David," Kurt says, voice a little higher with disgust, "what are you _do_– oh my god."

Dave lifts the stick, and clanking forlornly on the end is a set of keys. Unidentifiable goo drips from them, revealing the bedraggled remains of a Dior key ring.

"How…?"

Dave chews his lip. "Maybe she got them out of your bag while you were helping me pick up Blaine? Back at the Amphitheatre?"

Kurt is mortified. "Oh god, that has to be it. I remember leaving it unzipped too…" He shakes his head. "How does a spaniel manage to eat a set of keys? I mean it's not like it's a small bunch."

"That's nothing," Ollie calls over her shoulder from the rear of the car where Gumtree is lapping her way through another Frisbeeful of water. "When I was ten she ate ALL of my Barbie Picnic Van. We only figured out where it had gone when she started crapping pink and white plastic."

Dave shakes his head. "I'm real sorry about this, Kurt. I mean, we know she's always trying to eat weird stuff, and it I'd thought about it at the time…"

"No, Dave, really, this isn't your fault." He looks a little sadly at his keys. "I just hope they didn't hurt Gumtree internally or something."

"We'll get her checked out tomorrow morning," Ollie says, putting Gummy and the Frisbee back in the car. "I think she'll be okay though. Iron stomach, you know."

"I still feel like I should make this up to you," Dave mutters. Ollie rolls her eyes, and Kurt opens his mouth, but Dave continues quickly with, "do you want to stay for dinner tonight?"

Ollie stares at him, gobsmacked, but she smiles encouragingly when Kurt looks at her.

Kurt, who looks puzzled and uncertain and god, Dave wishes his mouth would just _fall off_ sometimes.

He's about to blushingly retract the offer when Kurt, looking thoughtful now, says, "yes."

And all Dave can do is blush and smile and say back, "Cool."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Okay, hoping for some feedback here, and for the love of god and rainbows and puppies with no legs, please tell me if I've mishandled some material, okay? I'd really love to not look like a douche on the internet. Or an oversensitive wally. Just an idiot in general, okay? So yeah, feedback would be awesome, if you're so inclined. And please let me know if you're confused about anything. The minimalist, only voices convos were something new for me and I tried to leave markers about who was speaking, but it's a little difficult with three voices.

Also, please forgive the rainbow shoes cameo, I just couldn't help myself.


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